


69 Days

by sherlockian4evr



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), 69 days to the Sherlock Special, Developing Relationship, Eventual 69 (Sex Position), First Kiss, First Time - in Progress, Fluff, Hand Jobs - in Progress, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Rating May Change, Some Humor, developing johnlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-24
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-04-28 07:38:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 70
Words: 6,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5083375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlockian4evr/pseuds/sherlockian4evr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In honour of the fact that the release date for the Sherlock BBC special was announced 69 days before airing, I am writing 69 chapters of 69 words each leading up to the culminating plus one chapter to be published on January 1st. The last chapter will be longer, but to keep in the spirit of the thing, I'll make each of its paragraphs conform to 69 words.</p><p>Beta read by <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherlock1110/pseuds/Sherlock1110">Sherlock1110.</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 69 Days

John paused in the motion of opening the fridge. Oh, God! There was a note taped to the door. It read simply '69'. Oh, fucking hell... 69. He swallowed and pushed the image that had appeared in his mind firmly away.

"Um, Sherlock. What's the significance of 69?" The doctor performed a facepalm. Please, Sherlock, don't go there...

"It's 69 days until the first of January. Obviously," Sherlock replied.


	2. 68 Days

John's brow wrinkled. "Since when do you care about the new year? You hate it. The one time Greg invited you to a party, you bit his head off and outed him to Donovan." He shook his head at the memory. She had already guessed, so no real damage done.

"I said the first, John. Don't be completely dull." Sherlock rolled his eyes outrageously. "And there is no party."


	3. 67 Days

John turned around and gave the detective a very exasperated look. "So, what? Is there some terrorist threat? Are they planning to set off a bomb during the New Year's Day Parade?"

Sherlock stalked over and... leered at John. The doctor found it disconcerting.

"You're most likely correct," the detective agreed, "but it's none of my concern."

John licked his lips. "Not your concern. Right. A bit not good."


	4. 66 Days

Sherlock walked over, leaned around the doctor and pulled open the fridge. He grabbed the milk and shoved it into John's hands then turned and walked back into the living room.

Bloody Holmeses, John thought. "A bomb, Sherlock," he said exasperatedly.

The detective waved a hand in the air. "Fine. If there _is_ a bomb and _if_ Mycroft asks for my help, I'll see to it. Will that do?"


	5. 65 Days

John sighed resignedly. "I suppose it will have to, won't it?" He went to add a dollop of milk to Sherlock's tea. "Back to the main point. What is happening on the first?"

"It's a surprise, John."

The detective sounded entirely too smug for the doctor's comfort and that couldn't be good.

"How about a clue for the idiot? The one that can't think like a Holmes," John complained.


	6. 64 Days

"Oh, Doctor Watson. Let's make it a game. You can ask me for one clue per week, Sherlock declared.

The detective was smiling like he had the day Lestrade had asked for his help on the serial suicide case. The disturbing thing was that the smile was now aimed at John.

"Fine," the doctor agreed with no little trepidation.

"Your first hint," Sherlock offered, "It's a gift for you."


	7. 63 Days

John swiped one hand over his eyes. "A bloody gift. That's your clue. The whole of it."

Stretching languidly, Sherlock hummed his affirmation. An enticing strip of pale flesh appeared below the hem of his T-shirt. John's tongue darted out and he inhaled sharply. He forced his eyes up where he saw Sherlock's smirking smile. The git. He could do this.

"Challenge accepted, Mr. Holmes. The game is on."


	8. 62 Days

For the next few days, John plotted and plotting around Sherlock was never an easy or wise thing to do. The doctor had found that the best way to succeed at it was to have three or four different plans in mind and only choose one to act on at the last moment. Even then, he was certain that the mad genius was still one step ahead of him.


	9. 61 Days

If John could get his hands on Sherlock's laptop, he should be able to find out something. Maybe the git was planning to kidnap him and perform experiments on him. Ha! Experiments. He really was getting paranoid. Wasn't he?

"We're going on holiday, yeah," John blurted the question out. A kidnapping would be a holiday to the detective. 

Sherlock smiled enigmatically. "One question per week," he reminded his friend.


	10. 60 Days

The next day was toga day at 221B, Sherlock lounging around in that infernal sheet. If John hadn't know better, he would have thought the raw sensuality that the detective exuded was intentional. Intentional or not, it was starting to get to him.

Sherlock looked up from where he was typing, his expression oddly knowing. "Problem?" he asked with feigned innocence.

John licked his lips. "No. Not at all."


	11. 59 Days

When Sherlock's mobile rang with a call from Lestrade, John held his breath. This could be his chance to enact plan number three. The detective lept up, leaving his laptop unlocked and John hid his smile.

Sherlock turned. "Three ears and a thumb! The body was left intact." He charged for the door. Noticing that John hadn't risen, he asked, "Aren't you coming?"

"No, I have to work today."


	12. 58 Days

The moment Sherlock was out the door, John dove for the laptop and hit a key. Yes! It was still unlocked. He started several searches, using every variant of the target date: the first of January. A single file popped up. It was named simply 'Sussex'. Grinning, he double-clicked it. The file contained two lines: the target date and...

"Really, John. Did you think it would be that easy?"


	13. 57 Days

Slamming the laptop shut, John let his head fall forward, his chin resting against his chest. Of course Sherlock had anticipated his actions. His mobile pinged, probably his infuriating flatmate texting to gloat.

**You haven't asked for your second clue. It's been a week. - SH**

The doctor blinked long and hard. It had been a week already?

**Berk - JW**

**Idiot - SH**

**Well? What's the bloody clue, you prat? - JW**


	14. 56 Days

John stared at his mobile, waiting for it to ping and grew more impatient by the moment. Finally, it sounded.

**Have you considered crows? - SH**

Irritated he fired off:

**That's not a proper clue - JW**

He wasn't really surprised when he didn't get a response. Sherlock was the one who threw things, but John's phone went flying and landed on the sofa. He really did have an insufferable flatmate.


	15. 55 Days

Most of the things John found out about crows seemed completely irrelevant. For instance, they were seen in many ways: a harbinger of rain, a trickster, a hero, an ancestral being, an exorcised spirit, a carrier of information that provides omens. They were used to symbolise stupidity and vanity. The doctor barked a laugh. Sherlock was probably implying that John was stupid. Fine. The detective was a vain git.


	16. 54 Days

More promising, and somewhat disturbing, was the fact that crows had once been considered to be the ghosts of murdered men. Add to that the fact that a group of crows was called a murder and... Oh, Christ! John knew that Sherlock wasn't plannning on killing anyone for him. Nope. He wasn't. Definitely not. Probably not. Maybe. Hopefully. Right. The doctor dropped his head into his hands and sighed.


	17. 53 Days

Sherlock burst into the flat, sweeping off his Belstaff and hanging it up. "Tea!" He was feeling particularly smug about how swiftly he had solved the last case.

John sighed and went to put the kettle on. As he waited for it to boil, he found himself asking, "You're not planning on killing Mycroft or... anyone?"

"Don't be absurd, John," Sherlock drawled, then asked, "Why would you think that?"


	18. 52 Days

"A murder of crows, Sherlock," John said dryly.

Sherlock actually threw his head back and laughed at that. "Oh, John. You are so amusing. Although..." He paused. "Killing my brother would be an interesting challenge. I'd have to get past his security, not to mention his own formidable skills." The detective appeared lost in thought. "Of course, Mummy would be upset and you would never approve." He smiled regretfully.


	19. 51 Days

At the look on the doctor's face, Sherlock gesticulated wildly. "Oh, don't look at me like that, John. As if I would really kill my brother." He threw himself down into his chair dramatically. "You missed the point of the clue entirely, of course."

John nodded sagely. "Oh, of course." His tone dripped sarcasm. "What else did you expect? I mean, really? You, crows, murder. It made perfect sense."


	20. 50 Days

"You let yourself be drawn to the obvious, John. How disappointing." Sherlock stretched out his legs, crossing them at the ankles. "You have to look deeper. He steepled his hands beneath his chin, suppressing a smile as the doctor's eyes lingered on them. John was so easy to manipulate.

The doctor's tongue darted out and swiped over his lower lip. "Care to enlighten me?" God, those bloody, gorgeous hands!


	21. 49 Days

Sherlock watched John, considering. "It hasn't been a week. I wouldn't want to be party to cheating. That would be, I believe, a bit not good." He shrugged off his jacket, draped it across his legs, reached up to unfasten a button on his shirt and leaned back. He tilted his head, exposing the long line of his neck and stretched his arms overhead. "Good night, John," he drawled.


	22. 48 Days

The next morning found them at a crime scene. John’s persistent thinking was distracting. Sherlock rolled his eyes and glared, his patience wearing thin. “Honestly, John,” he gestured at the body, “A man is dead. Do concentrate.”

The doctor sighed, trying to focus on the task at hand.

“Oh, for goodness sake. Hoop snake, John. Your next clue,” Sherlock snapped.

Lestrade looked from John to Sherlock and back confused.


	23. 47 Days

Pecos Bill. Great. Sherlock was referencing American folklore. The hoop snake was supposed to grasp its tail in its jaws and roll after its prey like a wheel, at the last second, skewering its victim with its venomous tail. Sherlock wondered why John's thoughts turned to murder and death? Hah! The doctor closed his laptop deliberately, breathing through his nose and closing his eyes. "Fuck this shit," he declared.


	24. 46 Days

Sherlock was frustrated. John had quit playing their game. He would have to re-engage his intellect, such as it was. He hijacked the doctor's laptop and hacked into it. The password was ridiculously simple - sodOffUGit. He grinned. John didn’t even try anymore. He pulled up the web browser and performed a quick search. He left it open to the image of an oil-lamp on display in a Munich Museum.


	25. 45 Days

When John logged into his laptop, noting that the password hadn't been changed by one consulting git, he stared at the image on his screen. He couldn't make it out. It was small and zooming in only degraded the quality. It looked like two people... John dug out his reading spectacles with a curse and quickly donned them. He had been correct, the two bodies formed a perfect 69.


	26. 44 Days

John thought back over the last few weeks. There had been the note reading 69, murderous crows and snakes and now this. Sherlock wasn't getting him a gift for the new year, he was trying to drive him completely mad. His head shot up. That was it, this whole thing was one of the detective's mad experiments. John wasn't taking it anymore. It was time to turn the tables.


	27. 43 Days

When Sherlock drug himself out of bed the next morning and ambled into the kitchen, he found John cooking breakfast. That wasn't unusual. What made him stop in his tracks was that John was only wearing pants.

"That's not safe, you know," Sherlock managed.

John glanced at him. "Oh? Right then." In one motion, the doctor slipped off his pants.

Sherlock was fairly certain that his heart had stopped.


	28. 42 Days

The next thing either man knew was that Sherlock was right there, crowding into John's space. Seemingly with a will of their own, the detective's hands reached out, landing on John's hips and pulling him close. Lips sought out lips and one tongue danced with another. When they separated, they were both breathing hard.

The doctor wore a look of befuddled amazement. "That's not the reaction I was expecting."


	29. 41 Days

Sherlock looked to him with disbelief. "Well, what reaction were you expecting, John?"

The doctor spluttered and blushed. "I was just trying to wind you up."

"Well, I certainly am 'wound up'." He pressed his erection against John's thigh and grinned. "As are you."

"Is this what you've been aiming for?" John felt breathless, his heart beating wildly.

"Hmm, not precisely," He stole another kiss. "I still have plans."


	30. 40 Days

John inhaled sharply, a rush of arousal coursing through him. Suddenly, he didn't care about Sherlock's distant plans. He kept just enough presence of mind to break free, turn off the cooktop and set the pan aside. The whole time he moved, Sherlock hovered, a look of desire plain on his face. Then he turned back to the detective and pulled them together again. "Want you, now," John murmured.


	31. 39 Days

"Mm, that's most agreeable," Sherlock purred.

John fumbled at the waistband of the detective's pyjama bottoms, smiling when he revealed his prize - Sherlock's hard, jutting cock. At the same time he grasped it, he felt the detective's long fingers wrap around him. John let his head fall forward against Sherlock's chest. A shiver passed through him and he very wisely said, "Mph." That was followed by, "Christ, Jesus. Fuck."


	32. 38 Days

Things unsaid, but deeply felt were out in the open. They hadn't been revealed by words, but by passion. That was fine, more than fine, in fact. They found that there was a problem with pent up sexual tension. When it found its release, things had a way of moving too fast. A few moments of frantic kissing, groping and mutual wanking and things were over far too soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive me, but I'm saving the good stuff for January 1st.


	33. 37 Days

John started laughing as he wrapped his arms tightly around the detective, _his_ detective. "You are _my_ delighfull madman, now. You do realise that?"

Sherlock breathed in the wonderful scent of John and smiled. "I believe you will find that I have no objections." His smile was broad and genuine. "So long as we can repeat _that_."

"Oh, I don't think it will be a problem," John agreed happily.


	34. 36 Days

John took Sherlock by the hand and pulled him towards the loo.

"What are we doing, John?" the detective asked, confused.

The doctor laughed. "We made a bit of a mess. Can't you deduce it?"

"Of course I can." Sherlock was indignant. "We each need a shower." The detective was feeling magnanimous. "You can go first."

John turned and plucked at Sherlock's waistband. "We'll go together, you great git."


	35. 35 Days

No one had ever accused John Watson of playing fair. Once he had Sherlock in the shower, he attacked his body with ferocity. He had the detective shivering in no time, hanging on the edge and panting his name. That’s when John stopped what he was doing and asked, “What did you mean by crows, Sherlock?”

The detective cracked one eye open and looked at John. “You are evil.”


	36. 34 Days

“I learned from the best,” John said with a broad grin and a single slow stroke of Sherlock’s cock. “Crows?”

“Please, John,” Sherlock groaned, his hands tightening their grip on the doctor’s arms.

“Crows,” the doctor repeated.

The detective trembled, fingers scrabbling madly. “God! Not just crows, congress of a crow.”

John gave him another stroke.

“It’s a specific term. Look it up. Now, fuck! Please, John, have mercy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After a couple of comments, I thought I should warn you... If you google 'congress of a crow', the results are definitely NSFW.


	37. 33 Days

It was tempting, oh so very tempting, to keep torturing Sherlock, but John decided he would parcel out his deviltry a bit at a time. Besides, it was hard to resist the detective when he was so delightfully frantic and needy. He moved his hand on Sherlock’s length in a more insistent fashion, employing every technique that he knew. “Come for me gorgeous,” he whispered into his detective’s ear.


	38. 32 Days

In the aftermath of sex in the kitchen and the loo, John and Sherlock found themselves cuddling on the sofa. The doctor raked his hands through Sherlock’s damp curls and gave him a mischievous smile. “I’m not called ‘Three Continents Watson’ for no reason, you know.”

The detective looked at him blankly. “What?”

John barked a laugh. “You really didn’t know? I figured you had deduced that by now.”


	39. 31 Days

Sherlock’s back went stiff, like an offended cat. If he had had a tail, it would have been flailing back and forth in frustration. “Of course I know you were called that, I only had to meet Bill Murray once to learn your sexual history, but what does that have to do with anything?”

“Among other things,” John pulled Sherlock’s mouth towards his own, “I’m damned good at kissing.”


	40. 30 Days

Neither John nor Sherlock registered the sound of footfalls on the stairs. It wasn’t until Lestrade barged into the flat that they even knew he was there. The DI stopped in his tracks, noting the intimate way the other two men were entwined in one another’s arms. He blinked, then a slow, broad smile crept onto his face. “God, it’s about damn time. I had almost given up hope.”


	41. 29 Days

It was difficult to tell which man looked the smuggest, they both looked quite pleased with themselves.

"Sod off, Lestrade." Sherlock's words lacked their normal sting.

John grinned, "Yeah. Sod off."

"You two are disgusting." The DI's smile belied his words.

"Yes, we are," Sherlock purred, then went back to kissing John.

Greg gave a bow as he stepped back out the door. "I'll leave you to it, then."


	42. 28 Days

When the door shut behind Greg, Sherlock and John fell into helpless giggles.

"You don't mind, do?" The doctor asked when he had caught his breath.

Sherlock stretched out appealingly, placing his legs in John's lap. "Mind that the Yard will know within fifteen minutes? Of course not." He grinned. "Besides, they'll have fair warning this way for when we go into an empty room and close the door."


	43. 27 Days

Grabbing John’s wrist, Sherlock lifted his legs and pulled his doctor from under them to lay on top of him, then he bellowed out “Mrs. Hudson!”

John clamped his hand over an offended ear. “Christ! I’m deaf.”

Their landlady made her way up the stairs and into the room. “Sherlock, dear…” She broke off as he made a show of checking to see if John still had his tonsils.


	44. 26 Days

Mrs. Hudson tittered and brought her hands up to cover her mouth. “Oh, you boys.” She looked on fondly, wondering if Sherlock would be able to determine the status of John’s tonsils. It looked likely. It had been too long since she had been kissed like that!

The doctor broke away and turned to smile at their landlady. “Well, Mrs. Hudson. You can quit trying to set up us.”


	45. 25 Days

"Mrs. Hudson," Sherlock cajoled, "John's hungry."

"Not your housekeeper or your cook, dear." Their landlady smiled and walked into the kitchen where she began bustling about. She hummed, smiled and peeked through the doorway, enjoying the sight of her boys, happy together. This had been a long time coming. She cooked them a large spread, placed it on the table and left the two lovers to enjoy it together.


	46. 24 Days

After they had finished eating, John stood, wondering how Mrs. Hudson had made them a meal considering the contents of their kitchen. He sneaked a peak in the fridge, shaking his head. Next he looked into each empty pantry. It was really pathetic. As much as he would like to take his time and play with his new consulting toy, he would have to make a trip to Tesco.


	47. 23 Days

Much to John’s surprise/horror Sherlock insisted on accompanying him to Tesco. Previous forays there together had been fraught with near-death experiences on Sherlock’s part at John’s hand. This time, the detective’s antics were endearing as he swanned about filling the trolley with crisps, biscuits, lube and other items that were “For an experiment, John.” The doctor smiled at his madman, feeling like the luckiest person in the world.


	48. 22 Days

Outside Tesco, Sherlock lifted his arm and his super power didn’t fail him. It was a good thing, as they were weighed down with chips and biscuits and such. The ride to the flat wasn’t their usual ride either. There was no brooding detective looking thoughtfully out the opposite window. Instead, Sherlock was sitting as close as he could to John, leaning up against him as if for warmth.


	49. 21 Days

“Sherlock,” John voice came out higher then he intended.

The detective’s came out low and husky, “Yes, John.”

“Your hand.”

Said hand slid higher up the doctor’s thigh then inward and nudged up against John’s very private parts. Parts he was very willing to share with Sherlock just not in the back of a cab.

John’s voice cracked, “Could you move it?”

It wasn’t the best choice of words.


	50. 20 Days

John threw his head back, knowing he should put a stop to it, but it felt to bloody good and there was a bag sitting in his lap. The cabbie would still probably/certainly know what was happening but he really didn’t give a fuck. He had to bite his lip when Sherlock leaned in a whispered something positively filthy in his ear. If this kept up, he would…


	51. 19 Days

"Sherlock," John growled, voice rough, "If you don't stop, so help me..." He was in his forties, for Christ's sake and their earlier activities had taken the worst of the edge off. John absolutely refused to come in his pants like a teenager.

"Yes, John?" Sherlock asked archly. He smiled as the doctor glared at him and gave the warm object in his hand a squeeze before letting go.


	52. 18 Days

John was about to protest the loss, when Sherlock sat up straight, announced, "We're home, John," and threw a handful of bills in the amused cabbie's direction.

The doctor climbed awkwardly out of the cab, carrying the lion's share of the bags. He muttered, "You'll be the death of me," as he followed Sherlock into the flat. John was happily anticipating a third romp, even if his heart burst.


	53. 17 Days

John was so lost in thoughts of what he was going to do to Sherlock that he didn't notice the man had stopped. He ran straight into the back of the lanky git, nearly knocking the wind from himself. "What the fuck, Sherlock?"

"Mycroft." It was said as an expletive. "Oh, God. He's not here, is he?" John poked his head around his flatmate and found the room empty.


	54. 16 Days

Sherlock stalked across the room. "He was here. He has to stick his nose into everything." The detective picked up a basket and thrust it at John. "Look!"

It held an assortment of lube, both flavoured and not, strawberries, two pomegranates and, near where it had been, a bottle of red wine and two wine glasses. John didn't know whether to be angry or amused. He settled for aroused.


	55. 15 Days

John grabbed a bottle of lube as he set the basket down. He noticed that it was flavoured – Appletini. He glanced at the other bottles. What was on offer? Mai Tai, Amaretto Sour, Bahama Mama, Baileys & Cream, Sex on the Beach… At the next bottle he did a double take.

“Baconlube?” John gaped. “Seriously? I didn’t know Mycroft had a sense of humour.”

“You missed this one – Whiskey Dick.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These are all real flavours. Seriously.


	56. 14 Days

John stood shaking his head for a minute then they both burst out in giggles. He grabbed both the Appletini lube and Sherlock’s wrist, then headed towards the detective’s bedroom.

“Joohhnn,” Sherlock whined, “I wanted the Baconlube.”

“You’re not the one that’s going to be tasting it,” John informed him over his shoulder.

At that, the detective pulled his arm back, bringing John with it and snogged him thoroughly.


	57. 13 Days

Later that evening, they both felt lazy and sated as they sat on the sofa. John’s eyes were drooping. Sherlock turned his head and sniffed at the doctor’s hair.

“Go to bed, John.”

“Happy here,” came the mumbled reply.

Sherlock scooped him up to a squawk from the doctor.

“What are you doing?”

“You’re sleeping in my room from now on.”

John smiled into Sherlock’s shoulder, content with that.


	58. 12 Days

The next morning, John woke with sore muscles that ached pleasantly. He rolled over, expecting to find himself alone, but instead found Sherlock sitting up in bed, eating a pomegranate. The man was a git, but damn, he was a sexy git. The detective’s fingertips were stained red, as were his lovely lips and tongue. John was already getting hard. “It’s your ambition to kill me with sex, innit?”


	59. 11 Days

Sherlock smiled wickedly as he ate another seed, sucking the juice from his fingers. "Kill you with sex? No, John, rather, make up for lost time."

John shifted in the bed, drawing closer to the detective. He wrapped himself around Sherlock, resting his head against the younger man's chest. He was spared from waxing melancholy over lost time, by long pale fingers offering him a couple of pomegranate seeds.


	60. 10 Days

John licked juice from Sherlock's stained fingers, then bit down on them gently, wanting to keep his prize. The detective smiled at him and dropped a kiss on top of John's head. The doctor shifted and Sherlock rolled them over, ending on top.

John had never been a morning person, stumbling around until he had drunk a cup of coffee, but this... he could get used to morning sex.


	61. 9 Days

After several days had passed, the mad, recurrent rounds of sex fell off to a reasonable frequency. Their routine returned to something resembling normal for them, cases, bickering, John badgering Sherlock to eat…

To John’s delight, sex was like a lullaby for Sherlock –a win/win scenario if there had ever been one.

Things couldn’t have been better, then the holidays arrived and Sherlock started looking unbearably smug again.


	62. 8 Days

At the last minute, John had insisted on getting a Christmas tree. Sherlock had scoffed, whinged and sulked about it during its procurement, but once it had been decorated, he had to admit that it was not… intolerable. It helped that John had built a fire, spread a blanket on the floor and pulled the detective down next to him for a long snogging session that escalated rather delightfully.


	63. 7 Days

John woke on the floor with a Christmas tree looming over him and a smiling, lanky detective wrapped around him. “Happy Christmas, Love,” the doctor murmured then kissed said detective on the cheek.

Sherlock hummed with contentment, then replied, “Happy Christmas, John.” It was the first Christmas in many years that the detective had expressed such a sentiment, but he found that he actually meant it. “I love you.”


	64. 6 Days

“What’s this?” John asked, as he entered the living room to find suitcases strewn around the room.

Sherlock shot John a withering look. “Counting today, there are only six days left.”

The doctor shrugged then went to put on tea. “Six days?” He called out before remembering Sherlock’s note on the fridge from so many days before. “You mean until the first? That wasn’t just to wind me up?”


	65. 5 Days

Sherlock strode across the room to John, a bit manic and bouncing on the balls of his feet. “We’ve discussed this, John. I _do_ have a surprise for you. Surely…” the detective narrowed his eyes and regarded his lover. “You never did go back and look it up. You have no idea.”

John grinned and pulled Sherlock into and embrace. “I admit, I’ve been a bit distracted of late.”


	66. 4 Days

Sherlock melted into John’s grasp, going soft and pliant as he purred, “Perhaps, this once, I can forgive your idiocy.”

“Git,” the doctor teased just before nipping at Sherlock’s long throat. “So…” Kiss. “You can…” Lick. “Tell me…” Suck. “What this is all about?” Long slow kiss.

Eyes, fluttering shut, Sherlock let out a low sigh and gave a shudder. “You are evil, John.”

“Hmm… I try my best.”


	67. 3 Days

“No,” Sherlock breathed as he stepped back from the doctor. “It’s a surprise. Now pack. Bring everything you’ll need for a week.”

John gave the detective a lopsided grin. “You claimed we weren’t going on holiday.”

Sherlock scowled. “No need to appear so smug, John. You haven’t caught me out, because going on holiday is _not_ your surprise. It merely supports my objective.”

“But we are going on holiday?”


	68. 2 Days

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “If you insist, then yes, we are going on holiday.”

John stretched up and dropped a kiss on the tip of Sherlock’s nose. “That wasn’t so difficult, now, was it?” A huff of irritation was his only answer as Sherlock whirled away and started packing. John smiled. He really did love the git, maybe he wouldn’t look up Sherlock’s clues, let him have his fun.


	69. 1 Day

Less than ten minutes until midnight on New Year’s Eve found John and Sherlock very happily ensconced at 221B. Their bed was warm, the champagne was chilled, they were sated and enjoying a pleasing afterglow.

“You don’t mind?” Sherlock asked. “We could have gone to the party at The Yard.” His nose wrinkled. “Or the one Mycroft was throwing.

“God, no!” John laughed. “I’m where I want to be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just one more day!!!!!!


	70. The Big Day at Last

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sigh... I seem to be two words short for this chapter. The total word count for the fic should have come to 6969. After 69 chapters, I had 4761 words. When I wrote chapter 70, it came out to 2208 words in my editor. Where did I go wrong?! If you should happen to find it, let me know!

Sherlock woke John far too early on New Year’s Day. That he did it with a tea and toast saved him a tongue lashing from the doctor, but it didn’t stop John from tossing a pillow in his direction. The younger man’s enthusiasm was endearing and somehow contagious. John wiped the scowl from his face, replacing it with a smile. “The tea’s not poisoned, I trust,” the doctor teased.

“No. Drink it. Now.” Sherlock bounced on the balls of his feet. “And eat. Mycroft’s car is waiting outside, so hurry.” He couldn’t wait to reveal John’s ‘surprise’, it was a pity he would have to wait until they arrived in Sussex. A huff of impatience escaped him as he watched the doctor slowly sip his tea. “Really, must you always be so slow.” They had places  _to be_.

“Yeah, I take my time like that. I like to torture you, I do.” The doctor really couldn’t resist winding Sherlock up, so he raised the toast and took the smallest bite he could manage. The look on his lover’s face was priceless – it was enough to send him into a fit of laughter and he sucked a bit of toast down his windpipe. His laughter devolved into coughing.

Sherlock waited for the doctor’s coughing fit to pass. “ _Come on_ , John. I’ve been planning this for months.” At least, if he had to spend an eternity waiting on John, he could pass the time admiring his handsome doctor. Finally, John finished his toast and tea. Sherlock grabbed him by the wrist and tugged firmly, urging him to get out of bed. “You have five minutes, then we're leaving.”

15 minutes later found John and Sherlock sat in the car Mycroft had provided. John tried very hard not to laugh out loud at the detective’s enthusiasm. Sherlock was like a child on Christmas Eve waiting for Father Christmas. The doctor twined his fingers with Sherlock’s and gave his hand a squeeze. “You don’t have to tell me everything, Love, but can I at least know where we’re going?”

“Sussex,” Sherlock replied, looking smug. “We’ll be spending the beginning of the year at the cottage.” It was so tempting to reveal this part of the surprise, but the detective was determined to wait. He would tell the doctor later that Mycroft had transferred his half ownership of the cottage to John - they now owned it together. “It was the one place I felt happy as a child.”

The ride to Sussex took a bit over 90 minutes, but John wasn’t timing it. He’d leave that to Sherlock. Someday, he’d ask how long it took and he expected he would get an answer to the second. The detective was amazing that way. Hell, he was amazing in every way. Whatever this surprise was, Sherlock had obviously put a bit of thought into it. Who would have thought?

Abruptly, Sherlock grabbed the doctor’s knee. “John, look. We’re here.” He smiled as he gazed out the window at the little cottage that sat back a bit from the country lane. It had a lovely brick façade and there was an old stone wall that delineated the main property. “It’s small, only two bedrooms.” His smile grew as he turned to John. “Not that that will be an issue.”

They climbed out of the car, Sherlock bounding enthusiastically down the path to the front door. John felt like his heart would float right out of him, he had never seen the detective so excited and, well, carefree. When they stepped over the threshold, John stopped and gaped. The cottage was nothing he would have thought to associate with Sherlock. It was light and airy, open and bright. “Wow.”

Sherlock turned to him and beamed. “Do you like it?” Four long strides took him to the opposite side of the living room where a fire had been laid. “There’s central heating, but that’s inferior.”  _And less romantic_ , he added in his head. When had he started thinking in such a fashion? Glancing back over his shoulder, he knew. It had been the very moment he had met John.

“This way, John,” Sherlock led him around the cottage, showing him the amenities. One bedroom had a double bed, but it was the other one that they would be sharing. It held a large bed and it had a large, spacious ensuite. There was even a small fridge for chilling wine. The best part were the doors that opened onto a small, intimate garden space where they could dine.

John made approving noises as he took Sherlock’s hand. “It’s lovely, Sherlock. Thank you for sharing this. Maybe we can walk to the seaside in a bit or into town.” He was sure they had passed a pub earlier. Then again… “Or we could find something else to do.” Oh yes! Sherlock’s eyes had widened and it was very clear to see that his pupils had dilated as well.

“Do you want part of your surprise, Doctor Watson?” Sherlock’s voice had dropped an octave and grown rough. John’s eyes widened. “It’s been 69 days.” He pressed against the doctor. “Did you ever look up my clues? They have something in common, congress of crows and hoop snake.” He brought his lips to brush against the shell of John’s ear. “Well, I should’ve been more specific,  _playing_  hoop snake.”  
  
The doctor shook his head as a frisson of excitement coursed through him at Sherlock’s next words. "It all goes back to 69. It’s something I want to try, John.” The detective’s tongue darted out and brushed along John’s ear. “I want to know what it is like to both receive and perform oral sex simultaneously. It’s something I’ve fantasised about and I want to do it with you.”  
  
John’s hand drifted to Sherlock’s waist. “Oh, God, yes. Right now. This minute. I’ll be happy to do that with you.” The doctor stepped back, his face flushed. “I’ll just go fetch the suitcases and the, um, supplies.” Wait, if they were doing  _that_  they wouldn’t need supplies. “Forget that. Just…” John’s tongue slipped out and darted over his lower lip. “Right. We don’t really need those, do we?”

“Nope,” Sherlock replied, popping the ‘p’. “Our clothes, John. We’re wearing far too many of them.” His fingers fumbled uselessly at the doctor’s flies, haste making him uncharacteristically clumsy. “Fuck,” he muttered, his frustration growing exponentially with every passing heartbeat. It was an immense relief when John finally swatted his hands away and stripped, quickly and efficiently. Sherlock eagerly followed suit, tossing his discarded clothing haphazardly to the floor.

Sherlock gave the doctor a playful push, toppling John backwards onto the bed, his head toward the headboard. Climbing over him, Sherlock placed a kiss on John’s lips, then trailed more kisses down his neck and torso, stopping at his groin. “Roll this way,” Sherlock commanded, pulling on John’s hips until he was laying on his side. “It should be much more comfortable this way, easier on the arms.”

Sherlock, thinking to be in charge, let out a soft gasp when he felt John’s fingers wrap around his cock. “J… John,” he breathed, “What are you doing? I wanted to… Oh, fuck!” He had lost all control and now ceded it to John. The doctor’s hands felt amazing as they stroked up and down, stopping to tease at the head of his cock, then moving back and around.

“That’s it, Love,” John murmured softly. “Or can you not focus on the task at hand?” Sherlock’s low keening whine goaded the doctor on and he moved his hand with more intent. “If you want this, you had best find a better position.” He gave Sherlock’s cock a teasing little squeeze and licked his lips enticingly. The resulting flush that spread over the detective’s chest was lovely. “Spin around.”

As soon as Sherlock shifted, he felt John’s mouth engulf him. It was hot and wet and, God! “Joohhn.” The detective closed his eyes, enjoying the sensation, then gathered himself. His face hovered in front of John’s cock. He opened his mouth and groaned as he took in the tip. Imagining the look on the doctor’s face, he worked his tongue to over the head, then swallowed John down.

John delighted in the sounds that Sherlock made as he sucked him - they were wanton and served to fuel the doctor’s arousal. That set up a feedback loop, John working more earnestly to pull those wonderful sounds from Sherlock, the detective responding with fevered sucking and licking of his own. That, in turn, resulted in John moaning obscenely and bobbing his head up and down along Sherlock’s cock.

John paused just a moment to wipe away spittle and catch his breath. Sherlock gave a little flick of his tongue that was just right and the doctor gasped. It felt so good! When he looked down, it was to see that Sherlock had pulled off of him and was grinning cheekily back up at him. “Christ, don’t stop.” If the detective stopped, he might die on the spot.

“You’re the one that stopped,” Sherlock pointed out before plunging back onto John’s cock with enthusiasm. He sucked and bobbed and  _hummed_  around it, pulling on the doctor’s hips, forcing him further down his throat until he was satisfied. He wondered what would happen if… Sherlock swallowed, his throat contracting around John. The results were quite satisfactory. John bucked up into him, his hips moving of their own accord.

John tried to equal his lover’s feat and pushed forward on the detective’s shaft. He let his hands roam, finding Sherlock’s arse and gripped it hard, pulling him near. Damn! Sherlock had swallowed again. And again. That was it. John was falling over the edge. He didn’t have time to warn Sherlock, but that didn’t seem to be a problem as he felt the detective swallow again and again.

John closed his eyes, Sherlock’s cock falling from his mouth. It lay there, just the tip against his lips. "God, Jesus Christ…" John shook his head. He shook all over. “You are so. Fucking. Amazing.” Opening his eyes, he saw the detective’s cock, flushed and leaking, bobbing before him. He tipped his head forward and placed a soft kiss on its tip before taking him into his mouth again.

John set to work with renewed vigour, wanting to see, hear and feel Sherlock come apart. He licked along the entire length of the detective’s cock then pulled slightly back and tongued at the slit. It only took a few short moments for Sherlock’s body to go stiff and then the detective was coming. John found he really didn’t mind the lack of warning as he swallowed Sherlock’s release.

After a short bit of time during which Sherlock came back down for his post-orgasmic high, the detective pushed himself up and shifted around on the bed. He placed his head on John’s chest and hummed contentedly as he pondered the amazing turn his life had taken since meeting John. He never wanted to experience life without the doctor, no, not ever again. So thinking, Sherlock gathered his courage.

“John,” he began. “Are you happy? Really happy, here with me.” He sat up and placed a finger to John’s lips, forestalling him. “Wait, don’t answer. Not yet.” There were tears gathering in the corners of his eyes that threatened to spill over. “I’ve never felt loved. I didn’t expect I ever would.” He blinked the tears away. “I want you to know that, regardless of how this goes.”

The doctor felt his heart break just a bit for the incredible man that had changed his life. “Yes, I’m happy, you git.” John pulled Sherlock into a loving kiss, their lips moving together in a slow, wet slide. “You are the most amazing, brilliant man I have ever known and I wish we could stay here, just us, like this, forever.” It was a wonderful thought, however unrealistic.

“We can.” Sherlock smiled at him. “Well, I should say we can come here whenever we want. The cottage is ours.” The incredulous, happy look that crept onto John’s face made Sherlock’s smile broaden obscenely. “I own half of it. Mycroft owned the rest. He’s signed his half over to you.” The detective found himself being thoroughly kissed. He pulled back. “I want to share this place with you.”

John imagined them growing old together and maybe retiring to the cottage someday in the far off future. John and Sherlock, two old men spending their golden years together. He would write and Sherlock... What would the detective do? Raise bees? Sherlock liked bees. He laughed at the image that presented itself in his mind, then shook his head. “I can’t accept it, Sherlock. It’s far, far too much.”

Sherlock bit his lip, this was it, the moment that he had been contemplating endlessly for months. He could do this. “It wouldn’t really be too much as an engagement gift, would it, John?” The air left his lungs in a rush as John sprang onto him. If the detective thought that he had been kissed thoroughly before, well, he had been wrong. That must be a ‘yes’ then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my goodness! That was it: 69 days +1 of Sherlock and John. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did.
> 
> Now let's all go and watch the special. Cheers!

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to podfic or translate this or create a drawing based on it, go for it. Just please let me know and link back to my fic.
> 
> Follow me on [Tumblr.](http://shippingintothenight.tumblr.com)


End file.
